My phone's kaput.
It fell on the asphault.
Then into a gutter.
Keys not working.
'Cept 2, 3, 5 and 6.
Demmit.

Using my sisters phone.
Phone book is half gone though.
So if you text and I ask 'Who r u?'
Don't be surprised.

Saturday was...

...exhausting. 7am - 330pm: Homework. 430pm - 830 pm: Class. Half a day of study! Ugh!

...a disappointment. Dyan, Jomar, Earl and I got to Drink and Drive by MIDNIGHT (long story). Just in time to see the flower pot in the elevator, heralding the end of the party. The guards had shut down the elevators to prevent any more people from going up. We took the stairs. Huff Puff. We got to hear the last song of the last band and see some of our friends. But no more beer. Dammit!

...a learning experience. I learned a new route that leads straight from Visayas to Tandang Sora. Woot.

...happy car day. My Bishi-sauna, though air-con-less, dented, scratched, has a tendency to overheat and has a 5 pound clutch, received much praise for the excellent engine tuning. I'm so proud. -sniff-

...a blank. Since we missed Drink n Drive, we tailed it to Casa Domingo with 5 Grande Red Horses. Watched Shallow Hal, cooked, ate, etc.

Then I felt the fatigue catch up to my body.
I wanted to lie down.
But I drank my beer first.
About 1/3 of a Liter.
Straight.
And lay down on the couch.
And..

..blank..

..woke up at home, on my bed.
Everything is a freakin' blur! No details at all! What the heck happened?!?

I was chatting. It was important.

But it's hard to do when you're also overseeing the printing documents and crushing bread into crumbs. I couldn't stop any of the tasks, so I did them all simultaneously. Yay, me.

Although I may have failed one of those tasks.

Damn.

---

In other news, here's some interesting stuff I surfed tonight. (interesting to me anyway)
.. Lyn's nifty new banner
.. Proof that Pink and Turquiose can work
.. A sad piece of tabulas news
.. A mug I want to steal (it's behind the cookies)
.. A lot of tattoo designs although I still want the Rood Inverse across my back just like Sydney Losstarot (Vagrant Story)
.. A short article about Color Theory
.. More proof that Pink and Turquiose can work

..to publish a fantasy-fiction novel.
..to own a health care center.
..to major in Physical Therapy.

..a pair of black jeans.
..a sprawling two level house overlooking the city.
..a white bedroom with a black, cast-iron, four-poster bed smack in the middle with Starbucks green silk sheets and pillows.

But why?

What is it that drives us to desire? Why can't we be content with food to eat, a roof over our heads, and a friend to talk to?

I want to know..
..why I want.

'Twas a night of jubilation.

Ringing of laughs.
Clinking of platters.
Trickling of alcohol.
Wafting of smoke.

'Twas a night of conversation.

Spinning of bottles.
Suffering of whores.
Drinking of vinegar.
Knocking of doors.

'Twas a night of temptation.

Glinting of eyes.
Brushing of skin.
Licking of lips.
Speaking of sin.

'Twas... perfection.

They told me to can it.

My Ego and my Libido.
And I did.

My bad attitude only got me into trouble. One scrape after another. Hanging by a thread. Booted out of school. Dropped out of work. An enemy here. An ex there. A friend lost. All that and a bag of chips, baby.

So I've gone tame for a while. Life got a little better.

But things have been happening. I'm restless. Never content with the things I accomplish. Roaming like a caged animal. Feeling like something is missing. And I know what it is..

Trouble. I like trouble.

Today one of my classmates borrowed my class schedule. Since I was busy at the moment, I handed it to her without thinking. It was only later that I noticed she had copied my entire sched into her notebook.

She's not an organization officer. Nor a student council member. What would she want with my class sched?

And then she went off into a corner with her friends. Notebook in hand. Glancing and giggling.

I feel smug.

Is that so wrong?

This was the last dream I dreamt before waking this afternoon..

- - - -
My parents and I were walking up to what looked like Shangri-la Mall. As we passed through the security check at the entrance, we met a couple with half a dozen kids milling around them. The children were varied in age, the eldest looked to be in his late teens, the next was still in puberty, the third looked like a grade schooler, the fourth, a kindergartener, the fifth a child of three, and the youngest an infant.

The couple waved at my mother and they greeted each other, hugged, and then turned to me.

"You're a nursing student, right?"

The mother thrusted the baby roughly into my hands.

"Find out what's wrong with my baby."

And with that the adults all walked away, leaving me standing there with a baby in my hands and five boys arranged in a half-circle around me. They were glaring.

I decided to ignore them and take a look at the baby instead. I doubted wether I can find out what's wrong with him. I'd never taken pediatrics.

I tickled him and watched him laugh a laugh of pure joy. He also drooled a drop of pure drool. It fell on his foot.

Or at least, it looked like a foot.

Horrified, I held him up to examine his legs. They were fat, too fat for his body. Like fleshy stumps. His feet were distinguishible only because of the ten protruding toes. I could barely make out his ankles.

I held him against my chest, supporting him with one hand. I ran my other hand over his leg, my fingers checking the muscle structure under his skin.

It was a complete mess.

Muscles twisted every which way, like some kind of abstract art sculpture. It felt like holding ground meat. I felt sick.

"Your brother has a big problem. The muscles in his legs are suffering from..."

I went into a lecture describing the child's condition and the possible ways it could have happened. I was using technical terms I'd never even heard before, but I said them with conviction. I somehow knew what I was talking about.

"Who the hell are you anyway?"

The eldest child had interrupted me in mid-speech. He was sneering.

"You think you're so intelligent, talking like that. Are you even a graduate?"

"No, I'm still in college. But I've studied human physiology on my own."

The brothers began laughing. Evil laughter. The kind that makes your blood freeze in your veins. As suddenly as it had begun, the laughing stopped. The five of them turned their glare on me, and to the baby, then back at me. They moved in unison, like they had been trained.

"Write it down."

The eldest held out a pen. The youngest held out a candy wrapper. I took the proffered items and began to write. Or at least tried to.

One side of the candy wrapper was made of something similar to tin foil. The pen scored it, but the ink would not stick. The only way you could read my writing was by tilting the surface against the light. The other side was tissue-like paper. The pen could write on it, but the paper would rip.

I scribbled instructions as best as I could. I said that the child required immediate medical attention, lest he lose the use of his legs. I described his ankles as being stunted due to lack of physical use. His muscles had been twisted beyond recognition. I mentioned that it could be due to physical abuse. Possibly by one (or all) of his brothers.

The parents of the six children appeared right as I finished the letter. As they approached, I handed the letter to the father.

"Your child. His leg. It's.." I exclaimed.

"Disfigured?" The father asked, his face a mask of calm. He crumpled the letter I had painstakingly wrote without a single glance.

"Yes. Yes it is." I answered slowly. With my left hand I tightened my protective hold on the child. My right hand was clenched into a fist by my side, ready and waiting.

The father raised his hand. Pointing with his index finger, he pointed to the infant's leg. I turned to look.

There on the back of the child's thigh, was a scar. It was shaped like an inverted letter 'S'. It was clearly defined, not like a scar you would get from an accident. This injury was clearly man-made.

I turned to look at the father, fury boiling up inside of me. I glared at him willing him to explain where that scar had come from. He simply smiled. And his family was smiling with him.

All seven of them, arranged around me in a semi-circle. Smiling with pearly white teeth and beady black eyes.

They baby whimpered into my shoulder. I looked at him and saw that his leg was bleeding. The scar had somehow reopened. His stump-like legs shaking from the pain. The child looked up to meet my gaze.

"Take me away from them." He pleaded with his eyes.

I nodded silently.

I set him down on the floor, on his side, facing the wall. Then I turned to his hell-spawned family.

They were still there.
Still smiling.

- - - -
I screwed on the cap of the baby bottle. I had found it in the mother's tattered hand bag.

"Here you go. Drink up, little one. You have to make up for your lost blood."

I cradled the child in my arms and tilted the bottle to his mouth. He caught the teat with his tooth-less gums and began to suck hungrily.

"That's a good boy. You'll grow up big and strong now. Just like me."

He smiled and gurgled at me. A drop of liquid seeped out of the corner of his mouth.

It was thick.
And red.

"Tsk tsk. Such a sloppy eater."

With the tip of my finger I brushed away the offending drop.

"Ah well. I guess It's okay. I'm a sloppy eater too."

I turned to look over my shoulder. The child's family was still there. They were lying, arranged in a semi-circle around me. They smiled up at the ceiling with broken teeth and blank beady eyes. Their skin was devoid of color. Their necks were nearly crushed, bearing deep marks of jagged teeth.

I put my finger up to my lips and licked it. Smacking my lips, I turned back to the baby.

"Your family was a bad bunch. But they tasted pretty good."

The child nodded in agreement, hungrily sucking away at his bottle.

Just spent the last 8 hours finishing Trina's flash and G's caricature. I feel like all the creative juices in my brain have been sucked out of me.

It's my own fault. I started them last week, planning to finish them ASAP. Then I procrastinated. Again. But at least I met my deadline. Even though the caricature doesn't look much like him. (Sorry G!)

I'm off to sleep now. When I wake, I'm gonna go read every blog entry I've missed. I've barely touched tabulas these past few days. I miss reading.

---

Here's the photo I used as basis for the caricature. G's on the left. That's KC on the right. They're probably going to kill me for posting this in public.


And here's the caricature I made. Used G's head and plugged it on to a Superboy (post-Death-of-Superman) body. Added a little fat and plastered the G on his chest. Had to cut down on the detail though.

Work time, around 6 hours. Tools. A number 3 pencil, a gum eraser, and a pint of coffee. Result... well you decide that.

---

The sun's rising. I must be off to sleep lest I be burned to ash.

After my math test I cut my next classes and chilled at the local Starbucks. I need some alone time.

I didn't get as much thinking done as I had hoped but I enjoyed the afternoon observing the people around me.

The Baristas

There was this guy applying as a barista. He didn't look the type who'd get into a blue collar job. He was tall and light skinned, possibly part caucasian. He was dressed better than the barista who was training him She (the trainer) looked like a college student. He (the applicant) looked like a lawyer. And yet there he was, learning the art of mixing coffee.

- - - - -
There was another interesting barista. It was his day off and he was just there to hang out. He's studying to be a lawyer and will be taking the bar exam next week. If this were the US, he'd be plumbing, not serving coffee.

The Customers

One group, two girls and two guys, were chatting about business, relationships and racing cars. Common fare. And then they start talking about Counterstrike.

This caught my attention, being a reformed gamer myself. Taking a closer look at them I could see they were in their mid or late 20's. And two of them were female. And they're discussing the best way to play certain maps... Unusual indeed.

- - - - -
Next up was a pair of balding fifty-year-old men accompanied by a 20 year old knockout... Are you thinking what I'm thinking B1?

The Janitor, The Guard and The Conio
(sounds like a C.S. Lewis parody)

Drawing was my cover for eavsdropping on people. I had my pad and pencil out and was adding a background to the caricature of G.

After a while the janitor came over and complimented me on my drawing, asking me how much I charge. I answered that I wasn't a professional and was drawing as a favor to a friend. He went back to work but came over to watch me whenever he had a free moment.

At eight o'clock, just as I decide to leave the security guard approached me, asking if I could make a drawing for him. He handed me a newspaper clipping; "Ripley's Believe it or Not" featuring Elvis in a kilt.

"Kaya mo ba i-drawing 'yan?" (Can you draw that?)

"Ewan. Subukan ko." (Dunno. I'll try.)

And so I spent the next two hours enlarging a 1.5" x 1.5" picture onto a 9" x 12" sheet of paper. I felt eyes glaring at me for taking up a table even when my coffee was long gone, but I didn't mind. I was doing a service. The guard even turned the ceiling fan on when he noticed I was sweating from the heat.

And along came the conio. She arrived with a foreigner and sat in the table next to me. While her friend went to get coffee she asked me, in the trademark conio taglish, wether I did portraits, either oil or charcoal. As before, I said that I wasn't a professional and have only learned to work with pencil. She thanked me for my time and went back to her coffee.

I was tempted to lie and say that I could do portraiture. I could smell work. And where there's work there's money. Maybe even a career. But what's done is done and I let the opportunity pass. Hopefully there will be others.

I finished the Elvis drawing at 10:30, handed it to the guard and said my goodbye's. Maybe I'll come back again. It'd be nice to become a 'regular'. I could get my coffee in a mug. Maybe even a discount on the side.

Or I could become a barista.

Hmmm....

---

I cap this lengthy post with my current "theme song". Enjoy.

Razorback - Better Than You

Show me your inside
Show me your mind
Who knows what fruits or
What worms i might find

Bring out your darkness
I'm sick of your sunshine
Tell me you're helpless
Say you're not all that fine

You say, heaven, you can taste
All i can see in your face is your hate

You stare at my face
And say oh what a waste
He's just living his days in such poor bitter taste
Maybe you should try to stare at my soul
That just might help you fill out your own hollow hole

Whoever told you you're higher than me?
You're all chained down up there
Though i'm groundless, i'm free
Being haunted by all that's unreal
Never wasted a moment to see what i feel

What makes me better than you?
Who knows who?
I know you do

DISCLAIMER: the pic with the knight on the horse is by Yoshitaka Amano. i'm using it to figure out the colors i will be using. the final design is still in the works.

And the winner is the Bull Demon! Spent all night working on it and now here it is. details later. Off to class now.

I'm taking a page out from Serena's book. Don't know the trick? Highlight the centered songs.

Coffee.
Cigarettes.
A quiet chat.
A flicker of hope.

Snuffed.

..I said..
We're here and now, but will we ever be again
'Cause I have found
All that shimmers in this world is sure to fade
Away
Again
Fuel - Shimmer

..She said..
You never close your eyes anymore when I kiss your lips
And there's no tenderness like before in your finger tips
You're trying hard not to show it
But baby, baby I know it
You've lost that lovin' feeling
Now it's gone gone gone
Hall & Oates - You've Lost That Lovin' Feeling

..And driving back..
I thought that she'd break down
But she smiled at me and never made a sound
And I guess she understood in her way
Cause her silence told me everything she could not say
When it falls apart
There's just no easy way to break somebody's heart.
James Ingram - There's No Easy Way

Another page.
Up in smoke.
Ash drifting in the wind.

A kiss...
To the cheek.

Goodbye.

The mind requires 6-8 hours of sleep everyday, so says an article I read in Reader's Digest. Another article (from the book Silva Mind Control Method I think) mentions that one can induce a sleep-like state by clearing the mind. You can even do this while doing something that comes to you naturally, like walking, washing the dishes, or eating.

The past two weeks I've been looking into this theory. I sleep only eight hours every two days or four hours daily. I make up for lost sleep by 'clearing my mind' whenever I'm walking to school, bathing, brushing my teeth and other menial tasks. It's like moving around with the auto-pilot on.

On the plus side, I've been able to study, draw, eat and workout everyday. I'd never be able to do this with an 8-hour sleep routine. Not enough time in the day for me to do the things I want to do. The way my schedule is arranged now, I even have time to chat. It satisfies my need to socialize and gives my body a chance to recuperate.

I must say that's it's a bit strange, being like this. I feel like I'm watching a movie in parts, skipping all the transition scenes. My life is composed of one task after another. Like an action queue in The Sims (by Maxis)

Another drawback is that I have blank spots in my memory. I can barely remember what I'm doing while I'm phased out. There was a time that I couldn't recall wether I'd brushed my teeth, so I brushed again, just to be safe.

Aside from the blank spots, I haven't felt any other adverse effects. As far as I'm concerned I'm in top form.

Now the question is; How long can I keep it up?

So my computer goes dead while I'm working on the layout.

At a net cafe now. No updates til the PC gets fixed.

Pif.